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Back Jungle Up Save as PDF
Chapters (63)
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  63. Author’s Note

I felt the pressure of his hands come off my ankles. A half second later, I felt his hands wrap around my throat. His thumbs dug just below my Adam’s apple, and the rest of his fat, fleshy fingers clamped around the outside of my neck.

I bent my legs and tried to free my arms. But every ounce of energy I had, even the reserves, was gone. Without asking, my legs went flat and my arms relaxed; it was as if every muscle in my body had turned off.

Bill’s face began to swim in and out of focus. Darkness began to seep in at the edges of my vision.

My left hand was bracketed to my left thigh, and under my forearm I could feel a faint bulge.

The EpiPen.

If I could inject myself, maybe I could get my muscles working, get one big burst of energy and shake Bill off.

With Bill putting all his effort into strangling me, the vice around my ribcage had lessened slightly.

I tried to wiggle my left arm, but it didn’t move, the signal lost somewhere in my oxygen-starved brain.

Un-kee!

I don’t know where the word came from, but I could hear it, as clear as if Clark were screaming it into my ear.

Un-kee!

There was no way I was leaving that kid without his Uncle Thomas. There was no way I was leaving Lacy to plan my funeral. And there was no way I was leaving Gina to live the next fifty years without me.

My left hand twitched.

I slid it up one inch. Then two. I could feel the bottom seam of my pocket. I squirmed my arm up, until my hand was at the top of my pocket. I slid my hand in and felt my fingers close around the EpiPen.

Bill’s hands continued to tighten around my throat. My head started to pound. I could feel my heartbeat thrum in my ears.

Unconsciousness was seconds away, death not lagging far behind.

I flipped the cap off of the EpiPen. I could feel the point of the needle on my left thigh. The pens were made to go through clothes. I just needed to angle it a bit and get my thumb on the plunger.

Bill must have figured out that I was trying something, and the pressure on my left arm and hand increased. The pen was squeezed parallel to my leg, and I couldn’t get the needle angled enough to pierce the skin.

With single digit heartbeats until I lost consciousness, I let out a primal scream in my head. I thrashed my body and shook my left arm. I felt an opening, a half inch of space, enough to jam the needle into my thigh and push down the plunger.

Only, I didn’t.